An Angel is Watching
by kabashley19
Summary: "A man without a woman is a pistol without a hammer; it's the woman who makes the man go off." What is the real reason for Enjolras' celibacy? Has he ever loved anything other than France?
1. Prologue

"Had you seen her today, you might know how it feels to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight," Marius sings, his voice dripping with sentiment. "Had you been there today, you might also have known how the world may be changed with one burst of light, and what was right seems wrong, and what was wrong seems right!"

The others look at him in amusement, but Enjolras longs to strike him. The wheels are in motion for a revolution, but the bastard has the nerve to go and lose his heart to some girl. How _dare_ he do this? How dare Marius turn his back on something that he had supported so fiercely, as fiercely as he himself does? And how dare he look him in the eyes and claim that Enjolras doesn't know what he is feeling? Has he forgotten already? It was barely a year ago, and Enjolras is _still_ enduring the pain. He looks at Marius in revulsion as their friends join in on the teasing.

"...Who cares about your lonely soul?" Enjolras tells him with annoyance. _Who cares about your lonely soul, when I'm far lonelier than you? _


	2. Chapter 1

**AN:** Set in the movie-verse of _Les Mis_ because Aaron Tviet is gorgeous. The quote* in the summary is from the book and is said by Bousset.

* * *

_Make sure his bed is properly made._

_Leave his clothes on his dresser and take whatever needs mending down to the laundry._

_Do not touch anything else._

_They treat him like a king_, Theresé thought as she opened the door to the small room that was rented by Monsieur Enjolras. She was given the task of taking care of every room on the third and fourth floor, including his room, but she hadn't seen him once since she started two months ago.

Theresé Bourchier was born to a French military officer and the daughter of an Italian merchant, both of whom died years ago, leaving her orphaned and penniless, causing her to fend for herself. It was a happy home and her parents loved her dearly. They always showered her with affection and had somehow gathered enough money together to allow her to go to school. Her father had spoiled her with things she now realized he couldn't afford at the time, and her mother would amuse her with stories that contained infinite wisdom. She couldn't have asked for more loving parents, and she saw that they truly loved each other as well. Why else, when they died in a carriage accident, would they have been found with their hands clasped together between them? It was a sign that told her that they would always remain together. She reached for the locket her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday; the last gift they had ever given her. It was her most prized possession and she never went a day without wearing it.

It was three years ago that the accident happened. Theresé was left alone and destitute, until she met someone who did housework for a noblewoman and was hired as a seamstress. After that, it was one job after another until she found work in this apartment building as a maid. She lived in a room in the basement with another girl, even younger than she was, and was given Sundays off to attend church and run personal errands.

When she entered the room of Monsieur Enjolras, she was appalled. It was one of the nicer rooms in the building, but it looked as if a storm had occurred within. His bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and the pillows were on the wrong end. His clothes were tossed haphazardly on top of a chair and even some on the floor, leaving her to wonder which items were clean and which were to be taken down as laundry. There were papers all about the couch and the floor, nearly making the hardwood disappear. Some, she saw, were messy scribbles and quickly thought ideas, while a good deal of the pile had _Vive La France!_ written ferociously on them. She tiptoed around the paper, careful not to step on any and began her work on the bed.

She was so absorbed in her task that she didn't hear the door open behind her or the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall. As she bent to pick up a pillow she had dropped on the ground, she heard a wolf-whistle from behind her and jumped around in shock. Four young men, probably no older than she was, all stood in the doorway with their eyes on her.

"Please, Mademoiselle, do not let us interfere with your work," one of them said with a mischievous grin on his face. His curly black hair shot up and out from all directions and he held a bottle of unopened wine in his hand. "We were quite enjoying it."

"M-Monsieur Enjolras?" Theresé asked, still trying to compose herself.

"I'm sure he wishes he was, but this is he." Another youth, with short brown hair and numerous freckles strewn across his handsome face, clapped his hand on the shoulder of the man who stood in front of him. Enjolras' stern gaze raked over her, his cold, dark blue eyes calculating her size. He was a striking man, Theresé thought to herself despite her fear as he walked about the room. He was young, surely, but his face was worn and weary. His full mouth was drawn into a tight line and the stubble on his strong jaw matched the blonde in his carelessly styled hair. He was without doubt the most fiercely beautiful man she had ever seen.

"What are you doing in my room, Mademoiselle...?" His authoritative voice pierced through her thoughts.

"Theresé. I'm the maid for this floor." She realized she was still holding the pillow and tossed it back on the bed. "I'm sorry, Monsieur; I was told you would not be back at least until the evening." Theresé grew nervous under his stare, and fixed her eyes on her hands folded in front of her.

"Enjolras, can't you see you're frightening the poor girl?" Another young man came forward; his curly brown hair falling over his small brown eyes and his friendly smile set her at ease when she finally looked up. That is, until Enjolras began walking towards her.

"Did you touch anything?" he asked her, holding her stare.

"No, Monsieur, save for the bed. I was going to ask you what needed to be taken down for laundry and mending. I wasn't sure what—"

"Here," he said as he began tossing clothes at her. Theresé remained still for a moment before reaching out and catching the different items, her face turning scarlet again and this time, with anger. What gave him the right to treat her so rudely? She tucked the clothes into a bundle and met his cold look with one of her own.

"With your permission, _Monsieur _Enjolras, I will have these clothes back by the end of the week," she said sarcastically, drawling out his name. "_Bonne journée._" She gave him a curt nod but smiled at the young men who parted ways for her to get to the door and walked out with her spine straight and head held high.

* * *

*_**"I admire Enjolras," said Bousset. "His impassive boldness astonishes me. He lives alone, which makes him perhaps a little sad. Enjolras suffers for his greatness, which binds him to widowhood. The rest of us have all, more or less, mistresses who make fools of us...all our heroisms come from our women. A man without a woman is a pistol without a hammer; it's the woman who makes the man go off. Well, Enjolras has no woman. He's not in love, yet he finds a way to be intrepid. It is an incredible thing that a man can be as cold as ice and as bold as fire." -Bousset,**_**Les Misérables**_**  
**_


	3. Chapter 2

Grantaire let out a low whistle of approval as he watched Theresé walk down the hallway.

"Enjolras, you lucky dog. How can you leave this place as often as you do when you have such a lovely creature here?"

Enjolras shot his friend a frustrated look as Marius laughed and moved the papers off of the couch so he and Courfeyrac could sit.

"I thought she was Eponine when we first walked in, but 'Ponine isn't built," Grantaire placed the bottle down and made an hourglass motion with his hands, "like 'that'."

"Enough, Grantaire," Enjolras shot back at his friend. "We're here for a meeting, not to discuss whether or not we think my new maid is appealing."

"Have a heart, Enjolras! How am I supposed to react when a beautiful girl is right in front of me? Marius," Grantaire opened the bottle and handed it to Marius, "You think she's pretty, no?"

Marius nodded. "Yes, though she _does_ remind me too much of 'Ponine to consider her further."

"Her hair is darker than Eponine's," Enjolras found himself saying. Before Grantaire could comment, Enjolras silenced him with a look that could kill. As he turned away, he even questioned himself.

_Where did that come from?_

"She must not be of full French blood. Spanish, maybe. No, Italian!" Grantaire became more excited with each sip of wine he took. Enjolras shook his head. His friend would be falling down before the meeting was over, and then nothing would get accomplished. Why did that girl have to show up today of all days? And why was he even thinking about her? He had time for one thing and one thing only; the salvation of the republic. France was his life, his love; he would not let one pretty girl turn his mind away from his true purpose.

But when the meeting was over and the men hurried home in the darkness of the night, Enjolras could not sleep. A vision of dark eyes and long dark hair kept him awake, his mind forcing him to imagine how her skin would feel against his and the sounds she would make as he kissed her senseless. He had to get her out of his head, and he came to the conclusion that Grantaire's method seemed the best way to do it.

Theresé removed her apron when she entered her room before washing her face in the basin on the dresser. Janelle, her roommate, watched as Theresé moved about the room while she braided her light brown hair.

"Did you have a good day, Theresé?" The two girls had gotten close since they had first moved in together, and Janelle regarded Theresé as an older sister, so she smiled when Theresé huffed as she prepared for bed.

"It could have been worse. I met one of the tenants; Monsieur Enjolras."

"You met him? What is he like?" Janelle asked, her grey eyes shining in awe. She had only ever heard stories about the young man who lived on the third floor, and felt a tinge of jealousy when she learned the new maid was assigned there. Theresé, however, turned to her with an angry look.

"He's terrifying...and rude! He threw his dirty clothes at me, even while his friends stood there watching him!"

Janelle waved her hand in the air to dismiss Theresé's comment. "But is he as handsome as I've heard?"

Theresé's eyes softened as she spoke. "Oh, Janelle, he's the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life. And such a powerful bearing! It's as if God had fashioned him with more care than the rest of us." She sat beside her on the bed and sighed. "I would give almost anything for him to see me as anything else but a maid."

"I hope you jest, Theresé," Janelle warned. "You know that Madame Varon doesn't tolerate any fraternizing with the boarders." Monsieur Varon was the landlord of the building, while his wife oversaw the employees. They were a very strict couple; they looked as if neither of them knew a day of laughter and Janelle had joked that she wasn't sure that they even knew how to smile. When Theresé was hired, Madame Varon had made it very clear that any indication of even flirting with one of the residents would be cause for immediate termination. Janelle knew that it would be difficult for anyone not to notice the lovely new maid, but Theresé thankfully didn't seem interested in a romantic encounter. Until today.

"I know, Janelle. But you would have felt the same way were you there too. I was sure my heart stopped beating when he looked at me." Theresé's hand flew to her chest, but she stopped smiling when she felt something missing. She panicked when she realized her necklace was gone. "My locket! Janelle, help me find it!" Theresé turned the blankets over and went down on all fours to search the floor.

Janelle helped her up and placed her hands on Theresé's shoulders to calm her. "I didn't see it on you when you came in, Theresé. Maybe it fell off in one of the rooms you were in?"

"Maybe; I'll have to check tomorrow when I make my rounds." Theresé paced in the small room and wrung her hands together frantically. "If I truly lost it, Janelle, it would be like losing my parents all over again. I don't think my heart can take any more pain!"


	4. Chapter 3

The next night, when _Les Amis de l'ABC_ met at Café Musain for another meeting, Enjolras decided that he didn't feel like talking about his plans for a revolution and that his men deserved a break. "But just for this one night," he warned them. They had better be prepared for their next assembly.

Enjolras took a bottle of rum from Grantaire and drank half of it before anyone else had the chance. Grantaire whimpered at his loss, but exclaimed in victory when he found another. Sounds of merriment echoed in the streets well into the late hours of the night, except from one person.

"What has gotten into _you_?" Marius asked Enjolras as Courfeyrac had gathered the men to play a drinking game. Enjolras was sitting at a table alone in the very back of the Café, nursing his third bottle of rum, scowling at the wall.

"I'm fine."

Marius scoffed and sat down across from him. "I know you, Enjolras. The liquor only makes your loud voice louder, but tonight you're acting as if you've been given the worst news of your life. Now what is the matter?"

Enjolras took another swig from the bottle before he looked at Marius with anguish. "Her."

"'Her'? Who's 'her'?"

"Theresé."

Marius' eyes opened wide at his friend's comment. Neither of them was unfamiliar in the ways of women, true, but ever since Enjolras had embraced the idea of a revolution, women no longer seemed to be of importance to him. Enjolras tapped his forehead rhythmically as he stared at the wall again.

"I can't get her out of my mind, Marius. I've only met her yesterday and already she's taken over my head. I remember every crease in her brow when she scowled at me, and I remember the exact shade of brown in her eyes..." He rubbed his face drunkenly and suddenly reached over and grabbed Marius by the shirt. "What do I do? Tell me what to do!" Everyone in the Café had turned to look at them, wondering what had caused Enjolras' outburst, but Marius laughed and told them not to worry.

"I think you should go home, my friend. She will always be there tomorrow." Marius helped him to his feet as Enjolras drank the last bit of rum in the bottle and wandered out into the street.

"_Vive la France!_" Enjolras shouted out into the night, trying to find his way back to his apartment while still trying to stand up straight. Dogs barked and women hushed at him from behind their shutters, but he waved an arm in the air carelessly and somehow ended up at his building.

He grasped onto the railing for dear life as he shakily made his way up the stairs to his room, when suddenly he noticed a faint glow coming from his floor. He walked farther and saw that his door had been opened and the light was coming from inside his room. Squinting, he stumbled into his room to confront the intruder, but instead was met with something else entirely.

"Theresé?"

Enjolras had to blink three or four times to make sure it wasn't just a drunken mirage, but it truly was Theresé standing at the side of his bed holding a candle aloft, where she was standing only yesterday when he had first met her. She was dressed in a white nightgown with a light green robe overtop, her hair loose and hanging down all around her face. Her cheeks were turning red with each passing moment.

"Monsieur Enjolras!" He took trembling steps towards her, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

"What are you doing here, Theresé?" He missed a step and fell, landing on his arm. Theresé rushed to his side as he let out a grunt of pain, and turned him over so he was lying on his back.

"Are you all right, Monsieur?" He coughed and saw her scrunch up her nose in disgust as she smelled the liquor on his breath. "You're drunk."

"I suppose I am, but you didn't answer my question." He stood up and inhales deeply as he steadied himself on a chair. "_What_ are you doing in my room?"

"I-I lost something," she said as she spread her hands in front of her, knowing it was useless to lie now that she had been caught. "I can't find my locket and I've searched everywhere except for your room. It's very important to me, Monsieur. If you have seen it, please tell me."

Enjolras hesitated for a moment before walking over to his dresser and fiddling among the papers. When he turned to face her again, the locket was dangling between his fingers.

"I found it on the floor beside my bed this morning. Such a pretty piece of jewelry; a gift from your lover?" Theresé's eyebrows came together as she frowned at his snide tone.

"It's from my parents. May I have it back, please?" Theresé watched in suspicion as he walked towards her. "What are you doing?"

"I shall put it on for you," he announced, his voice filled with drunken purpose.

"That won't be necessary, Monsieur. Just hand it to me and I will be on my way." She held her hand out for him to give her the locket but instead, Enjolras moved to stand behind her. He felt her stiffen when he brushed the hair away from her neck and saw the deep rise and fall of her chest when he fastened the clasp of her necklace. He rested his cheek against her dark hair and breathed in its scent.

"Don't go." Enjolras wanted to kick himself, but instead he moved to stand in front of her, his desire for her heightening as she gazed up at him with her large eyes. The liquor had dulled his brain and made him sound like a lovesick fool, but when she looked at him as she did then, he couldn't stop himself from speaking. "My heart...beats for one thing only, and that is my country. But then _you_ walked into my life and turned everything upside down and now I-" He unexpectedly grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest, his whole body turning to flame at the feel of her skin on his and his heart began pounding fiercely in his chest. "This is your doing. I hardly know you and yet my heart beats for you as it does for France. Do you feel it? Do you feel it racing?"

Theresé stood motionless as he stared at her once he was finished speaking and could hardly believe what she was hearing. She blushed at his bluntness and her eyes widened in surprise as his head slowly moved to hers as if he was about to kiss her, but his eyes suddenly rolled heavenwards and he collapsed at her feet.

_He's dead! Oh Lord, he's dead!_ Theresé thought as she fell to her knees beside Enjolras' motionless body. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes until she heard a snore escape him. Giving a silent prayer of thanks to God, she used all of her strength to push him to his feet so that he was standing with her support. She walked him over to the bed where she threw him down, his face burrowing deep into the pillows as he let out another large snore.

"Oh Monsieur," Theresé sighed as she ran her small fingers along his face, tracing each worn line and wrinkle. She stroked his unruly blonde hair, surprised that it was softer than it looked from afar and managed to pull the bed sheet over him. A smile crept on her face as she remembered his declaration, elated that such a beautiful man dared to feel for her so intensely. She sighed again and leaned over him to place a soft kiss upon his cheek. "_De beaux rêves_, Enjolras." She tiptoed to the door with her candle, taking one last glance at him before she left.

She could have sworn she saw a grin on his face.

* * *

**AN:** Reviews are more than welcome!


	5. Chapter 4

Enjolras woke the next day with a pounding in his head. He turned over and moaned as a wave of pain coursed through his entire body and placed a hand over his eyes to block out the sunlight that streamed through the window. Unsure of the time, he sat up slowly and looked around his room, trying to piece together how he got there. He skulked his way to his dresser where his mirror was and rubbed his face roughly. A shadow of stubble was beginning to show and his eyes were red and lined with dark bags. He would never drink again, he vowed. He scratched the back of his head and winced when he came in contact with a bump. _Did I hit my head?_ The vest he still wore had become wrinkled and there was a button missing, so he made a mental note to leave it for Theresé to mend.

_Theresé._

There was no sign of her anywhere. He was sure she had been in his room last night; he remembered finding her when he came home from the meeting. After that, everything seemed to be a blur. He whipped around to look for any evidence of her truly being with him, but all he got was another dizzy spell that forced him to collapse onto his bed with a moan.

"Enjolras? Are you awake?"

Joly called for him from outside the room. He glared at the door, unprepared for any intrusion, but stood anyway and opened it. Joly was waiting for him, along with Grantaire and Prouvaire, and they started at the sight of his disordered condition.

"Good lord, Enjolras! What has happened to you?" Joly exclaimed as he sat Enjolras down on the bed, the doctor in him taking note of his state. "This is the worst I have ever seen you. Look at that look in your eyes; I think you've had too much to drink, _mon ami_."

"Bah, you'll get used to it. When you're as practiced as I am, you learn to handle the consequences that liquor brings." Grantaire scoffed as he sat beside Enjolras and picked at the wrinkled vest he wore. "Isn't this what you were wearing yesterday? It's missing a button."

Enjolras squirmed away from him and took off the vest, placing in on the chair.

"Do you know any good seamstresses?"Prouvaire asked.

"Oh, he does," Grantaire smirked, even though Enjolras glowered at him. "And you should see her; she's exquisite."

"What time is it?" Enjolras asked, hoping to change the subject. Unfortunately, they refused to let it go.

"Dark hair, dark eyes; her lips are like roses and her skin is as fair as the glow of a warm summer morning. Prouvaire, you may want to write that down. I'm usually not so poetic when I'm sober." Grantaire struck a dramatic pose which roused a chuckle from Joly. Enjolras leaned against his dresser and hung his head, trying to remember if anything happened between Theresé and himself last night and if it did, how he would be able to face her. Just then, the subject of conversation entered the room, holding an armload of freshly-pressed bed sheets. She hesitated to move at the sight of Enjolras, who stared back at her, but immediately cast her eyes down and moved across the room in silence, not daring to look at anyone. She placed the sheets on the small table and curtseyed before rushing out of the door. Once she was gone, Grantaire chuckled.

"That, _mes amis_, was the object of desire. You can now see why I cannot speak of anything else." He went to the door and watched Theresé's disappearing form descend the stairs. "What I wouldn't give to have her in my bed for one night."

Enjolras slammed his fist against the dresser and moved to take his friend by the front of his shirt. "Grantaire, I have had nearly all I can take with you. Do _not_ speak of Theresé that way."

"Touchy, touchy, Enjolras. It's all in good fun. And what do _you_ care? It's not like you fancy her..." Grantaire watched as Enjolras' cheeks grew red and refused to meet anyone's eyes. Prouvaire was the first to speak up to break the tension that grew worse with each moment.

"Are you in love with her, Enjolras?" He had seen how Enjolras watched Theresé when she was in the room and the romantic within him could not help but hope that his serious friend had finally found someone. It bothered him that Enjolras seemed to forget that the female sex existed altogether. No man should be without a woman.

Enjolras removed his hands from Grantaire and ran them through his hair, making it somewhat tamer than it had been before. "I would be lying if I said that I don't find her pretty, but I don't have time to entertain the notion of love. There is a larger issue at hand, and we are losing sight of what is truly important. I don't want to hear any more on the subject of Theresé, understand?"

All three men nodded and headed for Café Musain, leaving Enjolras alone to clean up and get dressed. He felt guilty about lying to them, but at least they wouldn't talk about Theresé anymore.


	6. Chapter 5

The meeting at Café Musain went surprisingly smooth, each member seeming to be filled with vigor towards the idea of a revolution; even Grantaire had been paying attention. Enjolras allowed himself to smile as he walked back to his apartment and began to settle in for the night when he heard a knock at the door. He grumbled as he got out of the bed and lit a candle, tucking his shirt into his pants (it was unusually cold that night and he decided to keep them on) and preparing to tell whomever it was to go away. He opened the door and was shocked to see Theresé standing there.

"Theresé. What are you doing here?" She seemed to be at a loss for words and fiddled with her hands in front of her.

"I just wanted to see how you were feeling, Monsieur. I'm sorry it is so late, but I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep until...until I know if you are all right." He motioned for her to enter the room, the soft pink of her day dress warmed by the candlelight. He suddenly felt very warm himself, despite the chill in the air. He coughed to clear his throat that had suddenly become constricted. Why was a mere seamstress making him so nervous and ill at ease? He had lost all confidence when she was near him, and the thought of it scared him out of his wits. _I will not be intimidated by a girl_, he repeated to himself.

But when she turned to look at him with concern in her eyes, he felt his heart soften.

"I feel fine, Theresé, save for the bump on my head. Do you know how that happened?"

Theresé blushed and looked down, but Enjolras saw her hiding a slight smile and it charmed him to his toes. "You fainted at my feet, Monsieur. I was worried for you, for you seemed to have had too much to drink, but I managed to get you on the bed once I was sure you were well."

He walked about the room, kicking the sheets of paper aside with his bare foot. "How is it that I came to fall at your feet?"

She sucked in a breath, as if unsure of how to answer him. "You had given me back my locket, Monsieur, and then you..." she stopped talking as he moved closer to her. His memory suddenly came rushing back to him, and he remembered everything; putting her locket on for her, confessing his attraction to her and nearly kissing her before he collapsed before her. He looked at Theresé as she watched him again, and he wondered if she had wanted him as much as he wanted her. The plain look of desire on her face was his answer, but she seemed hesitant when he finally stood in front of her.

"Theresé, do you know how beautiful you are?" he whispered to her, unsure if she was able to hear him. Her breath was now coming in short gasps and she appeared to be frozen to the spot on which she stood. The cold wind blew through the window and extinguished the candle, leaving only the moon to give them light. He took the pin that held up half of her hair and it cascaded down her back in full black waves, its colour shimmering in the moonlight and he finally gave into his urge to run his hands through it. He placed his fingers within the curls that surrounded her face and gently pulled her close to him.

"Monsieur, but I do not know what to do." Theresé said breathlessly. He stiffened at her statement and his eyes widened with the realization that she had known no other man before him. He doubted she even kissed a man before. He should have known that the looks that she gave him were innocent and new to her, but it made him want her all the more. Enjolras suddenly felt the need to envelope her in his caress and protect her from all that would dare to harm her. He wanted the satisfaction in knowing that he had been her first lover...and, God willing, her only lover.

"Don't worry, Theresé. I promise I shall not hurt you," his cool breath whisked across her face and she shivered in pleasure at his nearness. "God take me if I ever do."

His lips at last met hers softly for a moment before she grasped the back of his head and drew him into a deeper kiss, one so fierce that he had to pull away from her to see if it was truly the gentle and quiet girl who had captured his heart. Indeed it was her, but the look in her eyes begged him to touch her, to please her. He needed no more encouragement; he kissed her again, as if branding her as his, and she returned it with a need so great, that it unleashed a beast from within him. He clung to her with a need he didn't know he possessed and as they moved together he murmured words of love to her as she cried out his name into the night. When they were finally spent, she wrapped her arms around him and held him to her chest, letting him feel the rhythm of her heartbeat as they welcomed the dawn together.

"Do you hear that, Monsieur?" she whispered to him as she stroked his hair, smelling the strong musky scent of him. "That is _my_ heart. And from this moment on, it shall beat only for _you_." Enjolras moved so that he was now leaning over her, and he stroked her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes. "But Monsieur, I don't want to interfere with your cause. I know that this...'revolution' you speak of is important to you and I don't want to be a distraction. Also, I must think of my employment. If I lose my position here, I shall be out on the street."

"I could not ask for a better distraction, Theresé, but you seem to have a point. I believe we would both benefit from meeting one another in secret. I do not want to risk the chance of you being dismissed from your service."

"Thank you Monsieur. And I know you have a reputation among your followers. Being seen with me would only disillusion them to think that you are straying from your goal."

Enjolras was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I don't know how serious this revolution may get, but I can't...I don't want to put you in danger by having people know that we are together. They will surely use you to get to me if they knew." Enjolras fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to control his emotions. Theresé placed her head on the curve of his shoulder and rested a hand on his bare chest, her touch immediately calming him.

"Nothing will happen, Monsieur. God will not be so cruel as to take you away from me too." He placed his hand over hers and kissed her tousled hair.

"Back to formalities? You know my name, Theresé. It was on your lips often enough during the night." He smiled as she kicked his leg jokingly, her cheeks flushing with sudden timidity. "Say it," he commanded gently. His voice was quickly becoming hoarse and he brought his face close to hers, making their foreheads touch and their noses press together. "Say it, Theresé."

Theresé smiled into his eyes. "Enjolras, I am yours." Pure joy flowed through his veins and he wanted nothing more than to make love to her again. Just as he was about to claim her mouth in a kiss, a knock at the door stopped him.

"Enjolras, are you in there?"

Enjolras placed his finger on his lips to motion for Theresé to remain quiet. She watched his magnificent form as he rose from the bed and put on his trousers, marvelling in his strong body that held her tenderly only moments ago. She blushed when he looked back at her, as if he knew what she was thinking and she drove her head into the pillows to stifle her giggle when he winked.

Enjolras was placing his shirt over his head as he called out to the visitor. "Who is it?"

"It's Marius. I know it's early, but I have important news." To Theresé's surprise, Enjolras swung the door open and Marius strode in, along with a little boy that she had never seen before. She burrowed under the covers, pulling them up past her nose as the young man and the child stared at her, clearly as shocked as she was.

"You remember Theresé, don't you?" Enjolras grabbed his boots and tugged them on, oblivious to the unease that the three other people in the room were feeling. "Theresé, this is Gavroche. He is a friend of ours." He gestured to the little boy as he tucked his shirt into his trousers.

"Enjolras, what is going on here?" Marius asked, still unable to move his eyes from Theresé whom he now realized was _nude_ under the sheets. Gavroche, who had never seen a naked woman before, turned beet red and stared at the floor.

"Please forgive me, Messieurs Marius and Gavroche. I must be going..." she was about to leave the bed when Enjolras held out a hand, motioning for her to stop. "No need, Theresé. Marius already knows about my feelings for you." He faced a still-stunned Marius and held his head high. "Marius, I need you to swear on your father's grave that you will not speak a word of this to anyone. My relationship with Theresé is a secret and we wish for it to remain that way. It is no one's business but ours concerning what our relationship is." He knelt to meet Gavroche's height. "You as well, Gavroche. I trust you to never tell a soul." The little boy earnestly nodded his head and looked up to Marius, who crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.

"And what _is_ the relationship, Enjolras?"

"I love him, Monsieur," Theresé spoke up softly and Marius watched Enjolras' face break out into the most sincere expression of happiness that he had never seen. Enjolras took Theresé's hand in his, kissed her palm and placed it on his heart.

"I adore her, and that is that. Now, what news do you bring?"

Marius coughed to clear his throat and to rid the smile from his face before making his tone serious enough to tell Enjolras the information. "General Jean Maximilien Lamarque is for the people. He opposes the monarchy and a Bourbon rule. We have a powerful ally in him, but I'm afraid this is growing more serious with each passing moment."

Enjolras' face lit up at the thought of having the famous general to side with their cause, but darkened again. "Now you see why I have sworn you both to secrecy. With this comes more danger, and I have no doubt that if any of the royalists knew about Theresé, they would use her against me. I will not have her put in harm's way. Tell the others to take care as well, and advise them to inform their mistresses about the dangers in our cause. I will not allow innocent women to be used as pawns." Marius and Gavroche both nodded as they looked to Theresé again. She looked from each of their faces and shifted to the edge of the bed.

"I'm afraid I have lingered too long," she said nervously. "I have to get beck before someone realizes I'm gone. I'll leave you to discuss your plans." With the sheet tied around her, she reached for her dress and Enjolras ushered his friends outside the door so Theresé could dress privately. Once she was finished, she turned to find Enjolras staring at her.

"Were you watching me the entire time?"

"Of course. I've only seen your naked beauty in the moonlight; to see it by sunlight is even more glorious." She tossed a pillow at him and he caught it easily, laughing as she adjusted the lace collar in the mirror. Holding her necklace in his hand, he went to stand behind her to clasp it around her neck, staring at their reflections as he did so. Together, their colourings were opposite; his blonde hair and blue eyes were like the sun and the bright sky, while her black hair and mysterious brown eyes were like sensual dark of night. They were a striking pair, and if God had it in his great plan for Enjolras to survive this revolution, he wouldn't hesitate to make Theresé his wife. Imagine how handsome their children would be! The thought alone excited him and he was overwhelmed by the need to be with her again, to feel her body mold perfectly to his. "Will you come to me tonight?" he whispered in her ear huskily.

Theresé turned as placed her hands on either side of his face. "Yes, and I shall stay the whole day afterwards if you wish me to."

"Do you not attend church?"

She smiled back at him. "Sunday is a day to worship God, but I can think of no better way to thank him than to spend it encircled by his greatest gift to me: your love."

Enjolras kissed her so deeply then that it sent a jolt of fire coursing through her body. "Until tonight then, _mon amour_." He playfully swatted her bottom as she turned to the door and smiled an impish smile as she said goodbye to Marius and placed a kiss on Gavroche's dirty cheek, causing the boy to redden deeply and smile bashfully. With one last look back at him, she disappeared, leaving Enjolras' heart bursting with joy.


	7. Chapter 6

With each passing moment Enjolras spent with Theresé, he knew that he was in heaven. They had been meeting secretly for months, using little Gavroche as a messenger. He felt guilty for using the boy for his personal use, but when he had asked him about it, he simply shrugged.

"She makes you 'appy, messieur. An' I like 'er; she always gives me a treat when I see 'er." He held out a pink macaroon and smiled. "These are my fav'rite."

Janelle was also let in on the secret. When Theresé had decided to tell her, Janelle shrieked in delight (as young girls often do) but also insisted on repeating her warnings of caution. She blushed to the roots of her hair when Theresé devised a plan for them to 'accidentally' bump into Enjolras when they had gone to the market and had smiled with joy when Enjolras promised to introduce her to his friends someday. Janelle's doubts only momentarily subsided when she saw the love that radiated between the two of them, but always made sure to remind Theresé that she tread on dangerous waters and to be careful.

Enjolras' friends noticed a difference in him too, but no one other than Marius knew the reason why he was no longer stern with Grantaire when he had too much to drink, or when he would sneak out early and tell no one where he was going. But he was still focused on the cause, thankfully. Theresé was sure to never force him to make that sacrifice for her, and for that he was grateful.

One night, Theresé had told him to meet her outside of the church when his meeting was over. It was the anniversary of her parents' death and she had gone to pray and light a candle for them and one for Enjolras to keep him strong to continue to fight for the people. Enjolras waited in the alleyway that, though quite a distance away, gave him a clear view of the church. It was near the middle of the night, and there was not a soul he could see, and it gave him an eerie feeling in his bones. He focused instead on the church door and windows, watching the glowing flames within and keeping his eye on the door so he could guide Theresé to him when she came out.

When she did, his heart stopped at the sight of her. She gracefully eased her way down the steps and pulled her thin cape around her shoulders, her breath forming in little puffs before her face. She was absolutely beautiful, and she belonged to him. He had never felt so thankful for anything in his life. He was about to call out to her when, from out of nowhere, two men appeared. Enjolras saw a glint of a sabre-sheath on one of the men and huffed when he realized what they were. _A couple of soldiers_, he thought, _up to no good once again_. He heard a braying laugh from the soldier as he stumbled over the lower stone steps of the church and one of the soldiers seemed to point to something in Theresé's direction. She turned as they called out to her while motioning for her to go to them, but his lovely Theresé shook her head and continued her walk to the alleyway where she knew Enjolras was waiting. A movement from behind him caught his attention, and thinking one of his friends may have followed him, he turned to see if anyone was there, but saw only a light fog covering the ground. When he turned back to look at Theresé, he saw that the men had caught up with her and were now standing on either side of her. Enjolras' face grew red-hot with anger, but he couldn't move from his place. He was frozen as he watched one of them grab Theresé's arm and pull her to him, and she held up her other hand to push him away and began to kick at them, but the other soldier struck her across the face with such force, it sent her falling to the cobblestone. Enjolras could no longer watch. He ran to the men and pushed and punched at them until they were bleeding from cuts on their faces and scurried off into the dark. He looked down at Theresé and saw a trace of blood falling from the corner of her eye and immediately fell to his knees to hold her to him.

"Theresé? Are you all right, _ma cherie_?" A few long minutes passed before she fluttered her eyes open and looked at him, the inside of her eye turning red with blood and her cheek swelling to twice its size. She opened her mouth to speak to him, but her voice came out in a low whisper.

"I am so...cold."

He suddenly felt something warm on his hand where he cradled the back of her head. When he held his hand before his face, he saw it completely covered in blood. "No...no, no, no!" Blood was now dripping from the back of her head and onto his pants and staining the cobblestone beneath her, as well as the corner of the stone steps where she must have hit her head. "Theresé!" He sobbed her name over and over, causing a carriage to stop in front of them as it passed. A rich gentleman peered out of the window and gasped at what he saw, causing Enjolras 'chest to swell within him. If the man would help, then Theresé might be saved! But to his astonishment, the gentleman shouted to the driver to continue on and ignore them, mumbling that 'the girl was past helping'. Enjolras' gaze turned white hot with fury, and he shook ferociously until he heard Theresé cough roughly in his arms.

Enjolras once again focused his attention on his lover as she trembled with pain. Theresé shakily took his hand in hers and pressed it against the locket that lay against her chest. "I don't...need this anymore. Take it and keep it with you."

"No, don't speak of such awful things."

"Are...are you scared for me, Monsieur?" She sighed as he violently nodded his head, tears falling from his face and onto hers, as if he thought to wash away the blood. "Don't be afraid. Mama and Papa are waiting and I am so happy that I am to...see them again. I will tell them about you; how you gave their only daughter a love so...so great that she felt blessed by God."

"Theresé, please! If you leave me, I shall have no one!"

Theresé's eyes rolled back slightly and her voice became raspy, as if struggling to speak with such little air within her. "You...have your friends, Monsieur, and your cause. Have faith in them and in...in yourself." She held her hand out to his face and wiped his tears away. "Remember me...and remember our...love." Her breathing was shallow now, and she closed her eyes as her body began to go limp. "Enjolras," she whispered with a small smile.


	8. Chapter 7

Enjolras called her name in terror as he held her to his chest and rocked back and forth, hoping to God that she would live. He shouted out for help, hoping that someone might hear him and save his beloved. A nun from inside the church came running out to see a young man holding a young woman to him tightly, crying over her wilted body. She gasped when she saw the blood that covered them both, and immediately sent for the groundskeeper in the church courtyard to help carry the girl into one of the rooms in the convent. Enjolras followed in a daze, but was told to wait outside the room as they nuns cleaned the girl as assessed her wounds until a doctor was able to come. After he cleaned his own hands and face, Enjolras paced and prayed in the small, dark hallway, hoping with all of his heart that Theresé would live. When the door finally opened and everyone filed out of the room solemnly, one of the nuns stayed behind and approached him. He knew by the look on her face that his prayers were no longer of any use.

"I am sorry, Monsieur. She has gone to be with God."

Enjolras fell back against the stone wall to steady himself. _Gone_.

"We did our best to save her Monsieur, but she was at the heavenly gates by the time you brought her here. The babe was also beyond saving."

"Babe?" Enjolras' face broke out into an unnerving shock. "She was with child?"

"Yes, Monsieur. I doubt she knew herself; she was barely past her first month. I assume you are her husband?"

"I—Yes, I am. I was..." He stared at the floor blankly as he lied to the nun, though it wasn't entirely a lie; Enjolras felt that Theresé was his wife in all but name.

"Would you like to see her?" She placed a gentle hand on his slumped shoulder and led him to the room where Theresé lay. The blood had been cleaned from her body and the nuns had put her in a fresh white dress. It was made from canvas, with no embellishments whatsoever. It reminded him of a shroud.

"_Mon amour_," he whispered and dared to walk to the side of the bed. Her black hair draped around her like a cloak and her face looked peaceful, as if she was merely asleep. The tears started anew and he fell to his knees by the bed when he saw the purple bruise on her cheek and the cut on her eye. Slowly, he reached a shaking hand to her lips and touched them lightly. He flinched as the cool temperature chilled him to his bones. _She is gone_.

When he finally spoke, his voice trembled with fury. "I shall kill them for what they have done."

"You speak out of grief, Monsieur." Enjolras turned sharply at the nun's soft voice. He had forgotten that she was there. "Vengeance cannot bring her back."

"If a poor man had committed the crime, or if it was a woman of high-rank that had been attacked, they would have been caught and killed. The men who did this will continue on unpunished, while Theresé and _my child_ have lost their lives by their account!"

"Maybe so, young Monsieur, but there is still nothing you can do." She placed her hand on his shoulder to comfort him and laid a white rose on Theresé's chest. "Be at peace, knowing that she no longer suffers." Enjolras heard her exit the room, leaving him kneeling in the deadly silence that he couldn't escape. The candles slowly melted as time passed, making him feel as if he was there for an eternity. It wasn't until morning that he heard a voice calling him from outside the small window.

"Enjolras!"

He stood and ignored the pain in his knees as he peered out side to see Gavroche searching for him. He had to smile briefly. How the little boy came to think that he was at the church, he would never know.

"Gavroche, in here!" He watched as the little boy waved in greeting and began scouring for boxes or crates to stand on so he could see inside the window. When he finally did, he smiled an innocent smile that showed all of his dirty teeth.

"Mornin' Monsieur! Didn't think you were one to go to church! What's the occasion?"

Enjolras' eyes began to fill with tears again as he looked at Theresé's body. "She's dead." Gavroche followed Enjolras' eyes and gasped.

"How did it happen, Enjolras?"

"It doesn't matter. Please, go and get Marius for me. I...I need him." Gavroche nodded and hopped down from the boxes, running off as fast as his feet could carry him. When he returned only a half-hour later, Marius appeared behind him and grasped the bars on the window. Seeing Theresé and Enjolras sitting on the bed beside her, he rushed into the room and knelt by Theresé's bedside. After saying a little prayer, he took a chair and faced his friend.

"I am so sorry, _mon ami_. What happened?"

"The rich," Enjolras said, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes remained fixed on the floor, "the rich can do what they please and have no care for the rest of us."

Marius flinched; Enjolras knew he came from a rich family, but insisted on leaving them so he could live among the poor. Though the comment wasn't directed to him, Marius still felt the sting of his words. "I ask again, Enjolras: how did Theresé die?"

"She was alone coming out of the church. A pair of soldiers assaulted her and when she fought back, they hit her and she fell onto the stone." Enjolras' voice shook as he recalled the memory from just hours ago, but he continued. "I fought them off, but I...I was too late." He grasped Theresé's hand and held it to his mouth. "She died in my arms, along with our child. She was pregnant when they killed her."

Marius reached out and patted him on the knee comfortingly. "Have strength, Enjolras."

"I do." He stood suddenly and moved to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "The cause for revolution is more important now than it ever was."

"Enjolras, Theresé has only _just_ died and you are already thinking about the revolution? You need to grieve and mourn her. Our cause can wait."

"No it cannot!" Enjolras faced Marius then with such ferocity in his eyes that even Gavroche, who still stood outside the window, stumbled at the tone of his voice. "They took my lover, and they took my child, but I'll be damned if I'll let them take France away from me as well." He turned to Gavroche. "Organize a meeting for tonight and tell the men to keep their minds sharp. We move with full force towards a revolution. No more delays; with Lamarque on our side, we shall prevail."

Marius was about to protest again, but was shocked into silence when Enjolras looked at him now. He saw that his whole face had changed. The friend Marius had grown to love was gone, and in his place stood a stranger with a cold, hard look in his eyes. A murderous anger had consumed him and Marius knew that Enjolras was no longer the same person he once was. He stood to leave, but stopped and watched as Enjolras sat on the bed. His heart broke for his friend, knowing that Theresé's death only fuelled his anger and his drive to overthrow the king. Knowing there was no way to convince him otherwise, he cast his eyes down in defeat. Sighing, he glanced one last time at Theresé's body, and left Enjolras alone.

Enjolras heard Marius leave but he never took his eyes off of Theresé. When he was sure that both he and Gavroche had gone, he leaned over her and pressed his forehead against hers.

"We would have been a family, Theresé. I would have loved the child with all of my being. We could have been happy. But they have taken everything from me. So this I vow to you, _mon amour_, I shall love no other woman but you for the rest of my days, and I will give my heart to no one. I have lost you, but I shall not lose France. You and France are now one in the same, and I fight for you both. I shall avenge you, _cherie_, and then perhaps I shall find peace." Despite his fight to stay strong, tears fell from his eyes and landed on her face, staining her once-pink cheeks. He dragged his fingers along the length of her jaw and let out a shaky breath as he moved to kiss her one last time. "Watch over me, _mon ange_...my angel."


	9. Epilogue

"Courfeyrac, you take the watch, they may attack before it's light. Everybody, keep the faith. For certain as our banner flies, we are not alone. The people too must rise."

Enjolras finishes his speech and finds his solitude on the other side of the cafe. He has come here to think. Nothing has gone at all like they had planned; he expected the people of Paris to come out of their homes, bearing their arms and crying for justice, giving them the support they needed. But they haven't moved. No one has come to help them. They are utterly and completely alone, and Enjolras knows that the people that had once sided with him are cowering in behind their shutters, waiting for it to pass. He doesn't know what to do. Their fearless leader is overcome with guilt and fear. He has led these boys to their deaths, and he knows it. _He knows it_. Theresé would never forgive him for this.

He throws himself down onto the small steps and leans his head back against the crumbling wall, closing his eyes and breathing in the misery that surrounds him until sleep finally claims him. He doesn't notice that someone is watching him from the shadows, as they always have been. She stands in front of him, taking in his ragged appearance; his bloodied clothes and the sadness in his features. Enjolras still doesn't know she is there, but then, no one ever does. She adjusts his revolutionary patch on his jacket, and runs her hands along his brow to smooth his hair away. She smiles a sad little smile as he twitches at the contact. She moves to kiss his eyelids tenderly, while whispering a promise that sends cool air across Enjolras' face, causing his eyes to snap open as he feels the presence now disappear.

_Do not worry, Monsieur. We will be together again soon._


End file.
